


Careful What You Wish For

by knees_of_bees



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bromance, Classic Harry in denial, F/M, Harry Potter in Denial, In this house we support Ronald Weasley, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Romance, Ron fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-28 23:49:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knees_of_bees/pseuds/knees_of_bees
Summary: Luna gives Harry a charm that will grant one wish. It seems to know him better than he knows himself, and he gets caught in a whirlwind of mishaps that he grows rather fond of.





	1. Boys Night Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I’ve ever written! :0 Bear with me and give this first chapter a read - I had a lot of fun writing it. If you’re willing to take a couple moments of your day to leave a comment, it would mean the world to me. Thoughts, reviews, criticism, anything and everything!  
> By the end of the night, Harry is holding someone in his arms... but not like you might think. Happy reading. :)

The screech of brakes echoed through the tunnel as the subway came to a stop. Harry would never stop being reminded of the Hogwarts Express. He curled his fingers around the handle of his briefcase and stepped through the doors, greeted by a familiar face.

“Good morning Harry,” said Luna lightly. Her hair was a tangled mop on top of her head with carrots stuck all throughout it.

He nodded toward it. “Nice updo.”

“Thanks.” She smiled softly. “It’s for the upcoming edition of the Quibbler.”

Harry didn’t bother to ask.

The subway seemed more dreary than normal, and that was saying something. It squealed to a stop again and an old man shuffled off.

When Harry’s eyes wandered back to what was in front of him, he noticed Luna staring at him oddly. Or rather, particularly oddly.

“You’re lonely. Is it still Ginny?”

He looked away. “Something like that.”

The two of them had had lunch together a few days ago, and their chat was nice and all but it just seemed so... friendly. It’s not like this tone was anything new. No, it was the fact that this friendly, almost sibling-like banter felt like every interaction he’d ever had with Ginny.

He loved her. He did. And he so desperately wanted to mean that in a romantic way.

Luna placed a hand on his and looked into his eyes intently. “I have something for you. I was going to deliver it to Mrs. Squashknobbler, but I have a couple more in my garden and I think you need it more.”

Harry had no clue who Mrs. Squashcobbler was, but Luna’s kindness warmed his heart. He looked down to see what looked like some sort of cross between moldy fruit and a dried up potato bug.

“Er, Luna? What is this?”

“It’s a nergelnut. It grants a person one wish. You only have to think about it.”

“What am I suppose to use the wish for?”

The subway’s scream served as a backdrop to Luna’s airy voice, giving the whole scene a vibe that Professor Trelawny would approve of.

“Your heart will know.”

With that, Luna and her nest of carrots swiftly departed the car. Harry eyed the nuggetnut thing for a moment before slipping it into his pocket.

The next stop brought him to the Ministry of Magic, and he trudged toward another day of paperwork.

• • • 

Eight very, very, very slow hours later, Harry shoved his keys into the door of his flat.

“Finally, you’re home!” exclaimed Ron. “Red shirt, or blue?” He emerged from his room holding two nearly-identical long sleeved t-shirts.

“Wait a second, are those my shirts?”

“Harry, that’s completely beside the point. Which one looks better with my hair?”

“Uh... blue. Have you seen a stack of files anywhere? I can’t think where I put them.”

Ron peeled off the sweater he had been wearing. “Files? We’re about to have the night of our lives and you wanna talk about files? Loosen up and help me get this show on the road!”

Harry raised an eyebrow at his shirtless roommate. “It’s Friday.”

“Your point is?” Ron yanked the red shirt over his head.

“We do this every Friday.”

“Nah mate, this is THE Friday,” he insisted with far too much confidence, pulling up his sleeves. The left one immediately slipped back down, but he was too busy picking a shirt for Harry from a pile of dirty clothes to notice.

Ron had been trying to set up the both of them for months now. Since Ginny broke up with Harry and Hermione expressed the need to focus on herself and her career, the redhead had declared them bachelors and done everything in his power to fill the void these two strong young women in their lives had left. So far, no success. Their shared apartment continued to get quieter and messier.

“Are you coming or not?” called Ron.

With a glance in the mirror and an entirely unfruitful attempt to flatten his hair, Harry caught up with Ron and they left.

• • •

Sweeping his hair back, Ron squinted through the mingling crowd at a lady across the room. “I think I’ve found her. You know what this means; time to apply my tactful ways.”

Harry watched as a long-haired witch drunkenly kicked off her shoe and poured her glass of firewhisky into it.

“No.”

“Well alright then, that one?”

“The one in the corner?”

“Yeah, with the blue hair.”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so? Bloody hell, Harry, lower your standards already.”

“I just don’t think she’s your type.”

“My type? My type?! If you haven’t noticed, my type at this point is a living, breathing lady.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Fine!” exclaimed Ron. “That one.”

A laugh sounded from the direction of his gesture and Harry looked to see a short young woman. He studied her for a moment.

“Actually, yeah. Yeah I think you should go introduce yourself or something.”

Just then the men’s bathroom door swung open and a bloke with warm brown skin a bit darker than Harry’s made his way toward her. He put his arm around the woman and she melted into him, smiling contently. Harry didn’t blame her for looking so happy. He had calm eyes and muscular arms. His jawline was strong, cheekbones high set, and smile just a tiny bit dorky. Overall, he was incredibly attractive. For a dude. Harry quickly broke his gaze from the fairly average couple and looked over at his friend.

Ron’s face looked like the portrait of depression itself. “That’s it. There’s no hope left for me. I’m entirely done for.”

“You know, Won Won, you could always track down Lavender Brown,” Harry offered only partially sarcastically.

“...I’ve uh, I’ve already tried that. Married.”

They sat in awkward silence for a bit, glasses clinking and people chattering around them.

Ron opened his mouth as if to say something. He closed it again. Opened it.

His voice broke as he spoke. “I miss Hermione.”

“I know you do.”

Harry almost reached over and put an arm around Ron. Almost. They fell back into silence.

Suddenly, a crash echoed from around the corner. A shrill voice screamed “YOU DON’T KNOW A DAMN THING ABOUT MY FATHER!”

“Bet you 10 galleons that’s Malfoy,” Ron scoffed.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “At least someone’s reliably consistent with their emotions. Though it can’t be too difficult when you have the emotional maturity of a 4-year-old.”

Ron chuckled and Harry was relieved to see a little bit of life back in his face. He heard another crash. “I’m, er, gonna go check on things.”

He felt Ron grab his arm. “Come on mate, to hell with morality, you don’t owe that prick a thing.” Harry pulled away and muttered “I’ll just be a minute,” and Ron sighed as he watched his hero of a friend embark on another quest. At least this one didn’t consist of paperwork; maybe it was what he needed.

Harry walked right into a mob. Shattered glass and beams of light whizzed overhead as he pushed his way through the mass of bodies. A pair of dueling wizards came into view, and as Harry stumbled to the front of the small crowd, he could see that the one on the far end was indeed Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy... It had been years since the two had laid eyes upon each other. Something stirred inside Harry’s stomach at the sight of him - probably a resentful sort of nostalgia - but he looked worse than ever. Pale blond hair plastered across paler skin, bags under bloodshot eyes, skinny frame shaking; he was a wreck. A drunken wreck, as evident by his drooping, shivering stance as well as the way his sloppy attempts at spells hit everything except his opponent.

The crowd was gathered around the wizard on this end of the fight, and the whole lot seemed to be jeering at Malfoy. He must have done something to really piss them all off. The bastard probably deserved what was coming to him, but Harry let his Auror training instincts kick in as Malfoy’s rival raised his wand menacingly.

“EXPELLIARMUS!” With that, the man was disarmed. Before his audience took over the attack, Harry sent a series of stunning spells. They flew in beams of light through the air one after another, stalling the group of people long enough to turn to his Hogwarts nemesis.

“Are you okay?”

Malfoy blinked slowly. “I was winning,” he whined.

“You most definitely were not. Now go home before you get yourself into more trouble.”

Harry waited for a response and received only a frown.

“Malfoy.”

“I don’t very much want for your information so you can bugger off of me right immediately.”

“Merlin’s beard, Malfoy, I said you need to go home! I’m an Auror for God’s sake, you can listen to me or to common sense but either way you need to get your intoxicated and emotionally charged idiot self out of public before you put yourself in serious danger.”

“Why do you care?” he asked in a muddled voice, eyes drifting.

“I don’t.”

“Good. Bug off.”

“Good! I will.”

Malfoy didn’t respond.

“Nice talking to you.” Harry spun around in annoyance only to see a witch aggressively searching the ground for her wand. He spun back.

“Fuck it,” mumbled Harry under his breath. “Alright, you fucking prick. Have it your way. I won’t make you go home. I’m taking you to my flat and I don’t wanna here a word of complaint.” He grabbed the man‘s wrist and pulled him away from the scene of the duel. As Malfoy’s eyes drooped and he began to go limp, he muttered “My father will hear about this...” Harry had to let go of the wrist and instead loop his arm around Malfoy’s waist to support his weight. 

• • •

“No. No no no no no no no. There is no way we’re letting Draco bloody Malfoy into our flat!”

“Ron, I’m serious, we can’t just leave him here!”

“Well cozy him up in a dumpster then, he’ll fit right in.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron as Malfoy muttered something incoherent about garbage.

“You know what?! Fine! If saving the slimeball will make you stop moping around the apartment over Ginny and your job, fuck it. But that sodding thing is going in your bed. No way I’m letting Mr. greasy string bean on my couch.”

“Yeah, whatever. Apparate us home?”

Ron sighed and put his arm securely around Harry. “You got it, Chosen One.”

A familiar twisting sensation carried them back to the musty smell of home, and Ron held on to Harry for an extra second, giving him a squeeze before dipping into his room. 

“Don’t you dare feed him my bacon!” called Ron through the door. “I splurged on the thick cut stuff.”

Harry laughed and turned to look at Malfoy who seemed not to notice the arm around him. The spoiled kid who had tried to make their lives miserable for years was standing in their hallway, leaning into the scruffy-haired green-eyed boy he hated more than anything, and drunkenly glaring at a moth on the wall. What had Harry gotten himself into?


	2. Boys Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting this guy into bed is a rollercoatser...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, comments and kudos mean the world! Thanks for stopping by. Happy reading! :)

“That moth is looking at me,” growled Malfoy, with his weight still on Harry.

“That moth is minding its own business. You should try it sometime, maybe you’d end up in less of a-“

Just then, the unsteady blond boy lurched against Harry and vomited all over his shoulder. Harry could feel the warm, chunky substance dripping down his back as he chocked out the the last word of his sentence. “...mess.”

“Oi, keep quiet out there!” called Ron from his room.

Harry pushed Malfoy off of him, sighing in frustration. “Happen to recall any cleaning spells in your drunken state?” The spells that seemed the most mundane were always the ones he found himself wishing he knew. He racked his brain and tried something, and soap sprayed from his wand and splattered his already soaked shirt. “Well that’s just great,” he mumbled.

Turning to Malfoy, he said “Thanks to you, both of us need showers. There’s no chance I’m letting you on my furniture like that.”

Harry received a scoff in response. “You want me to get naked for you, Potter?”

“Th-that’s not what I-“ started Harry, completely taken aback, but Malfoy interrupted him. “Make me.”

“For God’s sake Malfoy, if you’re not going to rinse off then I will. Don’t. Touch. Anything. I’ll be back to deal with you in a minute.”

Harry stepped past Malfoy, who was sputtering some sort of response he didn’t care to listen to, grabbed a clean shirt and trousers from his room, and shut himself in the bathroom.

He peeled off his t-shirt and threw it in the corner. As he undid his belt buckle, he felt a lump in his left pocket. Luna’s wish-granting lump. He’d forgotten all about it. He set it on the bathroom counter, and realized just how covered in dried up toothpaste the counter was. Thank god Malfoy was much too out of it to notice the mess their apartment had become without Hermione and Ginny as frequent visitors. Harry tossed his trousers and knickers into the corner with his mop of a shirt, and slipped into the shower.

The searing hot water cleared his muddled head. Harry let himself relax completely for a moment. Only a moment, because his adrenaline kept him moving and before he knew it he was aggressively drying his hair with a towel. Dried and dressed, he slipped the lumpy prune into the pocket of his pajamas. He didn’t want to face Luna’s disappointment if she found out he rejected her nargle nugget. His left hand flicked off the light while his right hand flung open the bathroom door.

Malfoy wasn’t in the hallway.

He wasn’t in Harry’s room or the laundry room. During a quick search of the living room, Harry contemplated whether or not he would feel guilty if he saw Malfoy’s face slapped on the Daily Prophet the next morning. He turned around to face the kitchen and saw a thin young man sitting criss cross applesauce on the tile floor holding a carton of ice cream. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Malfoy shoved a spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth. “Got any chocolate sauce, savior?”

“Put the spoon down. I work tomorrow, I can’t have you keeping me up for... for... for this!”

“No!” the blond retorted childishly. “My ice cream. You don’t always get what you want, Potter, and it’s time you learned that.”

“I bought that stuff! You’re at my place eating my food and you have absolutely no right to tell me what’s what.”

Malfoy let out a long sigh. “Fine. You can have some.”

Harry groaned, regretting every decision he’d made that night. But honestly, if anyone deserved a bit of dessert, it was him. He grabbed a spoon of his own and sat down next to Malfoy.

“Alright, pass it on over.”

“What’s the magic word?” mumbled Malfoy.

Harry slipped his hand into his pocket, curled his fingers around his wand, shot Malfoy a glare, and said “Accio ice cream.”

The carton flew into his hands. “Rude,” came the response. Harry jabbed his spoon into the freezer burnt treat. The moment it began to melt in his mouth, he felt a little bit better. They passed it back and forth for a bit, cold hands brushing.

“What was all that ruckus about, anyway?” Harry asked tentatively.

“He started it, okay! I was just standing there and that stupid dusty mothball decided to go and-“

“Er, Malfoy? We are talking about that bar fight, right?”

And long silence followed. “Oh. That.”

They continued to pass the carton back and forth in silence. Eventually, he spoke up. 

“People think they know him. They think he’s pure evil. And yeah he’s done a lot of shit but- but... he’s still... my dad. And how am I ever suppose to be anything decent if I’m already labeled as just an echo of that. Fuck, I dunno. But I couldn’t just stand there and take it.”

Harry nodded. It was ethereal hearing this selfish, guarded boy so... open. He felt like he had crossed into a dimension he was never meant to enter, and he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

He stood up, dropping his spoon in the sink. It landed with a harsh ring. “Well! Like I said I have work in the morning. You can, uh, take my room, we’ll just need to get that rag off of you.” Harry gestured to the vomit-splattered shirt. 

Malfoy looked down out himself. “Who the bloody hell did this to me?! I paid 200 Galleons for this shirt! Was this you?!”

“Shut up and follow me you arse.”

Harry grabbed Malfoy’s hand to pull him up. He flinched at the touch, but let himself be led down the hallway.

“My room,” he announced. His voice lowered as he muttered to himself “Draco fucking Malfoy in my room.”

“Give me a second, I’ll find you a shirt.”

Malfoy let out a noise of disbelief. “No, I’LL find me a shirt.” He pushed Harry aside and threw open the doors to his closet.

“This is just great. You made a mess of my designer shirt and now I have to dress like a depressed dad?”

Harry crossed his arms. “A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“Grey, grey, orrrrr grey. Such a difficult decision.”

“Malfoy I didn’t invite you in here to criticize my-“

“Ew!” he exclaimed, holding up a brownish sweater. “What is this? Half the things in your wardrobe shouldn’t be allowed to exist!”

“Would you just pick a shirt and-“

“Ah, this’ll do. This particular scrap of elephant skin is marginally more tolerable than the rest.” Malfoy shook out a cool gray tee lined in black as Harry shook his head in disbelief. This intoxicated man couldn’t form a single reasonable thought, until fashion of all things brought back his vocabulary.

He grabbed the hem of his expensive shirt and started tugging on it. “Malfoy,” Harry said, trying to interject before he got blame for yet another disaster. “Stop, you’re going to- Let me help you get that off- Will you stop that!”

“No! I can do it by myself!”

Harry swallowed his words and let the stubborn idiot twist himself up before finally giving in.

“Well? Are you gonna fix this?” asked Malfoy, his voice muffled by fabric.

Harry stepped toward him and raised his hands, unsure of how to use them. “Er...”

“Lovely, I’ll just suffocate then,” said the shirt in front of him.

“Okay, okay.” Harry undid the lowest button, which at this point was about halfway up his ribcage. As he worked his way up, he couldn’t help but notice how toned Malfoy was. The skin of his abdomen was so smooth and pale that it seemed almost luminescent in the moonlight... It was probably just the glow of Harry’s alarm clock. It was much too bright, ruddy thing, really.

“Can you go any faster? I know you aren’t used to decent clothing, but honestly.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m working on it...” Harry couldn’t imagine paying 200 Galleons for buttons that were this hard to undo. It didn’t make it any easier that Malfoy was teetering back and forth, unable to stand up straight.

Harry’s fingers grazed his chest, and then his collarbone. It was harder to navigate as he tried to untangle the smooth fabric from Malfoy’s neck, head, and arms; he’d really gotten himself in a knot. In just a few seconds, though, he found clear blue eyes staring intently into his. They were close. Very, very close. 

“Well then,” said Harry, awkwardly clapping Malfoy on the back. He didn’t quite realize until their skin made contact that Malfoy was shirtless. “I’m gonna go grab a cloth.” He couldn’t tell what was worse: having to stare at Malfoy’s face or his pecs. “To wash your, erm, to get you cleaned up. Right then.“ He dipped out of the room.

• • •

Harry stepped back into his room to find his rival sitting comfortably on the edge of his bed in his t-shirt.

Malfoy looked up at the sound of him entering. “Potter! It’s been years. Do I look good?”

Harry couldn’t tell whether or not he was being sarcastic, but he was clearly getting drowsier by the second and getting him to clean himself wasn’t worth the effort. “You look downright awful.” Harry lowered onto his knees in order to reach the angular face.

Malfoy frowned. Harry brushed strands of blond hair out of his face and muttered “This’ll only take a minute. Then both of us can get to sleep and pretend it never happened.” But Malfoy didn’t seem to register his words. His gaze stayed trained on Harry, who was gently sweeping a cool cloth across his damp forehead.

“Harry your eyes,” came a hoarse whisper.

“That’s nice,” said Harry, smoothing Malfoy’s silvery eyebrows.

“Harry look at me.”

Harry obliged, telling himself compliance would make this go faster. He held eye contact as he awkwardly dabbed the cloth under Malfoy’s eyes, ran it firmly across his high cheekbones, and let it follow the length of his nose. Harry couldn’t read the other man’s expression, but the air between them seemed strangely... okay.

It was comfortable. New, but nice. So he tried to muster all the reassurance he could, keeping his gaze steady.

The light stubble spattered across Malfoy’s cheeks was rougher, and the cloth caught it a couple times. His lips were dry. They were parted slightly, and so they moved as Harry gently wet them with the cloth.

“Harry...” whispered Malfoy. Harry darted his eyes back to the blue ones. “I’m here.”

He knew this should be strange. He knew this circumstance would never occur if it wasn’t so late, if Malfoy hadn’t had so much to drink, if Harry’s goddamn hero complex didn’t make half his decisions for him. But he pushed those thoughts from his mind and let himself enjoy this moment.

If only they stumbled upon one another in crisis more often.

Malfoy yawned, and the moment the boy in glasses pulled away, he slumped over onto the bed. Harry had to use arm strength to yank the blanket out from under him and lay it gently across him.

He tried his best to open the door without letting it creak. His eyes lingered on the figure in his bed for a moment, and he closed the door behind him.


	3. It’s A Date

“Where the hell am I?”

“Shut it, Ron...”Harry shifted in his bed. He didn’t remember it being so small. Or cold. Or uncomfortable.

“I will ask you one more time, Potter. Where the bloody hell am I?”

The moment he heard ‘Potter’ being spit like that, the previous night’s events rushed through his head. “Shit.” Harry forced his eyelids to lift just a little bit. A wand was pointed directly at his face, and sure enough, he could just make out a blond-headed figure behind it.

“You were drunk.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re right. Sorry. That was an understatement. You were so far gone you dueled a moth, ate ice cream with your worst enemy, and acted like a spoiled, whiny toddler. Oh, once again, my mistake - that last bit’s nothing new.” 

“You haven’t answered my question. What is this mess of a place?”

“MY place. You stirred up trouble at the bar and I saved your sorry arse-“

“I don’t need saving-“

“Would you let me finish? You refused to tell me where you lived so I took you here. If I hadn’t interfered you very well may have died then and there. You’re welcome.”

Harry stood up from the couch and found himself face to face with Malfoy. The softness of his eyes from the night before was gone, the familiar glare in place.

“I can handle my own life, thanks,” Malfoy said cooly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Nice seeing you too.”

Malfoy disappeared into thin air with a loud crack, and Harry let out a breath, collapsing back onto the couch.

Not until he was sitting there alone in the early morning air did he realize that Malfoy was still wearing his shirt.

• • •

The sound of sizzling butter served as a backdrop to a whisk clanging loudly against glass. Two roommates began their morning routine, complete with a defeating yawn from Ron.

“I’m exhausted!” he said through another mouthful of bacon. “Thanks to that egotistical toothpick, I couldn’t get a wink of sleep last night. Pass the butter.”

Harry tossed Ron the crumb-covered cube and continued attempting to scramble eggs. “That’s an outright lie. I heard you snoring.”

“Alright, alright, but he sure didn’t bring any peace to my dreams. Lemme tell ya, first it was Neville and I on that one staircase in Hogwarts, you know with the really weird portrait of the baby, except the stairs were made of-“

“Here we go again,” said Harry to himself. Ron continued to explain his dream in excruciating detail.

Harry’s mind drifted to the strange events of last night. Draco Malfoy, of all people, talking openly about his own insecurities. Draco Malfoy with a very nearly friendly attitude. Draco Malfoy with his shirt off. The intensity of their eye contact. The closeness of their faces...

“-when Draco fucking Malfoy walks over to us and gives you a big ol’ hug! Totally gross, am I right?”

“What? Oh. Yeah. Ugh. Gross.” Harry realized he’d stopped whisking and quickly started moving his hand again.

“Harry?” Ron looked up from tenderly caring for his bacon. “You good?”

“Good. Yep. Great!”

The redhead squinted his eyes. “Alright. Well you just let me know if I need to beat that bloody idiot up for you. Self-righteous walnut thinks he can go around stirring up trouble and making other people clean up after him.”

“He didn’t mean for that.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Harry wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at, he just knew there was a lot of hurt in the way Malfoy had talked about his father. “Pass the pepper?”

“You got it, mate.” Ron slid both the salt and pepper across the counter. He reached into the cupboard and grabbed a plate to pile the bacon on. They set the table and their conversation topics clicked back into the ordinary.

“I’ve really got to head into work,” admitted Harry eventually.

“Another Saturday? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Only a few hours.”

Ron scraped the last of the eggs onto his plate. “You say that every time. It makes you miserable, too! I still don’t see why you accepted this desk job position.”

“Higher up,” shrugged Harry, evading eye contact and standing up from the table.

“Well you’re not escaping ‘til the dishes are done. S’your turn.”

• • •

For the tenth time, Harry read the paragraph in front of him. The words still didn’t process.

He sighed and pushed away from his desk, sinking into his chair.

There was Ron. And there was Luna every morning and... and that was it. That was the extent of his social life at this point. That, and the wasted man last night.

Since he’d woken up that morning, he couldn’t seem to get Malfoy out of his head for the first time since school - proof of his loneliness. And yet it was that reoccurring face that forced Harry to see that the answer to his solitude was right in front of him; he just had to work up the courage to go after it. It was time he gave in to Ron and found himself a girlfriend.

The only problem was figuring out where on earth to start. Just then, he remembered the ugly rock he’d transferred from his pajamas to his trousers that morning. Muttering “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he pulled it from his pocket and set it on the desk.

“Uh, hey.” Harry cursed himself for talking to an inanimate object. He then carried on talking to it. “Luna’s a bit odd. She believes in the things she talks about, and I admire that, I just don’t think they amount to much in reality. That being said, the strange things she goes on about nearly always end up having something to them.

Not that I expect this to work. Obviously. I’m not an idiot,” he said, alone in his office. “But as long as you’re sitting around... I’d like... well, I’d like to feel, y’know, a romantic sort of attraction, as in...” The words came out in a rush. “I want to be in love.“

The squashed, crusty thing sat there lifelessly.

“Not that I never have, I’m sure I must have, I just- Never mind.”

He slid it to the side, grabbing a neglected stack of papers and feeling like a complete fool. He flipped through them for a couple seconds before his eyes landed on a sticky note with handwriting much nicer than his.

The Bleeding Eel, 5 PM  
Meet me there?

• • •

A wave of pleasant chatter washed over him as he swung open the door at 5:04 PM. Harry told himself again that it was probably a work meeting or even a trap, all the while craning his neck to look for someone who might’ve asked him out.

He did see Emina, a new Auror, at a table by a window, and sent a quick wave in her direction. She smiled and he continued to look around. Harry froze, furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, and looked back to see her motioning for him to join her. He abruptly caught on.

Feeling a bit nauseous and unsure if this was really happening, he walked toward her. He didn’t know much about this lady, though he was fairly certain Ron had mentioned her once or twice. She had sleek black hair pulled into a low ponytail and skin the same dark caramel color as Harry’s. As he sat down across from her, she winked, her sharp eyeliner briefly crinkling.

He cleared his throat. “So you’re the one that left that sticky note.”

“You bet. How does it feel to be the chosen one?”

Harry laughed awkwardly.

“I’m Emina. I’d hope you spend enough time actually partaking in Ministry work to know at least that, but I’m sure the office has been rather demanding since you switched from a real job to second floor secretary. I guess you can’t expect too much from a guy whose glory days are long since over.” She smiled teasingly.

Harry spoke quietly, saying “Department of Magical Law Enforcement Finance Manager, but yeah.”

“Food?”

“What? Oh, yeah, yes.” He looked down at the menu, and it was proving more difficult to decipher than ancient runes.

A waiter approached the table, and Emina ordered a salad with no dressing and extra olives. Harry panicked and ordered the first thing he read on the menu, which was spaghetti.

“Did you hear his voice?” the young Auror started as soon as the waiter left. “He sounded so utterly depressed. I guess some people just choose to see the negative aspects of life. Pathetic guy.” Harry wasn’t sure how to respond, but in a moment the conversation topic had moved on to music.

Most of the talking took place on one end of the table. Every time Harry did say something, she mocked him, but he supposed she was trying to be funny so he didn’t let it bother him. He simply worked at his spaghetti, and although he hadn’t remembered until it was in front of him that he didn’t care for tomato sauce, he tried to make the best of it now.

When the waiter came back, however, she continued to talk badly about him, except this time while he was standing right there. Harry quickly thanked him as he walked away.

“Really you’re quite lucky I asked you out, it’s not like anyone else was going to with your awful fashion sense. At least you’ve got the scar thing going for you.”

Harry looked down at his outfit. He still had his work robes on, but he didn’t think the sweater underneath was that awful.

“I’m just kidding,” she said as she flashed him a smile. Just then the waiter came back.

“How are you enjoying your meal?” he asked.

“How old is your spinach?” Emina fired back.

He turned toward her blankly. “What?”

“How old. Is your spinach?”

“Jee, I dunno, I guess it’d be about-“

“Because I’ve had good food before, and this doesn’t even come close to decent.”

“Sorry ma’am, I-“

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled. “I just don’t want to see this sad excuse for food on the bill.” He nodded and walked away, flustered.

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d had more than enough sweet smiles and cruel words with Umbridge, and he wasn’t about to let this woman get away with that. He opened his mouth to say something, just as amber liquid splashed down Emina’s front.

“Oh my god! Oh my lord, you dodgy slag, what the hell was that for?!” she screamed as Harry grabbed a handful of napkins and tried to hand them to her.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, complete accident,” Harry’s head snapped up to see Malfoy standing there with an empty glass. “I just feel so secure with the capable staff this place has that sometimes I get careless.”

Emina swore loudly and Harry tore his eyes aware from Malfoy’s figure. He used a spell to clean up her dress, not realizing his mistake until a spray of soap shot from his wand for the second time in 24 hours. She shrieked and announced her departure. Harry tried to offer help, but to his relief she stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

Harry whipped around to face Malfoy. “What’s your problem?”

“I saved you from a bad date before it turned disastrous. Saved the arse of that lousy waiter, too.”

“I had that under control. She was being rude, and I was about to call her out on it.”

“You’re welcome,” came the dismissive response.

Harry laughed dryly and turned his attention to the table, laying enough money down for the dinner and another couple of handfuls for the tip. When he’d finished, Malfoy was still standing there.

“Let me buy you another drink.” Harry didn’t realize what he’d said until the words were out of his mouth.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “It was plain apple cider, and it was godawful. If anything, I need a milkshake, but as much as I’d love to spend my evening with an ungrateful prick, I have better things to do.”

“Well you’ll have to put them on hold because unfortunately, I have a discount at Mindy’s.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened ever so slightly at ‘Mindy’s.’ He hastily shrugged off his excitement and motioned behind him. “I have a table to get back to. Some of us in this restaurant are here for a good reason, believe it or not.”

“Tomorrow then.”

Malfoy looked him up and down skeptically, searching for any sort of hidden motive. After a moment, he agreed, and they planned to meet at lunch.

“Bring my shirt,” added Harry, remembering the nice grey tee he’d owned for so many years.

“Oh, that? If i haven’t burned it by then.”

Harry watched Malfoy’s retreating figure, wondering once again what the hell he’d gotten himself into but starting not to mind.


	4. Feeling Shaky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mafoy doesn’t show up to their date. **friendly hang out. #no homo  
> Why, you may ask? Spoiler alert: He’s busy getting beat up in an alleyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took infinity and a half to post because I was traveling, one of my stops being hARRY POTTER WORLD IN ORLANDO FLORIDA! My sisters and I had a truly magical time. Tips: -the timing of the gringotts dragon has no pattern. Don’t believe the rumors. If you wanna see that big boy breath fire, you’ll have to rely on luck or patience. -go on rides with ur group the first time, but take advantage of the single rider line the other 3728471 times. -most importantly, those greedy bastards split HP into 2 parks, so make sure you get a pass to both!!  
> Also, I got a Monster Book of Monsters phone case and his name is Melvin and I love him.  
> I hope you’re doin alright! Make time for new experiences, find the joy where you’re at, and happy reading.

Harry shook his leg violently. When that didn’t work, he kicked the stool beneath him. Thump, thump, thump.

Mindy, the owner of the old fashioned ice cream shop on Diagon Alley, called to him from her counter. “You okay, Harry?”

“Yeah,” assured Harry, realizing he must look ridiculous. “Foot’s asleep.” She giggled and slipped into the back room.

The midday rush had come and gone. Harry had watched couples, friends, and families pick their flavors. He‘d finally bought himself a milkshake in the hopes of looking less alone, and he’d watched condensation from the glass drip onto the table, glistening in the sunlight that bounced off the bright orange walls. He’d sat there for hours, trying to distract himself from the empty feeling somewhere in his stomach as he watched for Malfoy.

“Want another milkshake?” Mindy and her bright red lipstick were back at the counter.

“No thanks. I was waiting for someone but uh... I don’t think they’re coming.”

“Well I’ll sit with you. Anytime.” She flashed him a smile. Since Harry had stuck around and helped her clean up one night about a year ago, she’d given him everything half off. She was quite friendly toward him.

“I appreciate it, but I think I’ll head out now.”

“See you next time, sugar. And don’t wait too long - I like having you around.” He gave her a brief smile and left.

As he meandered across the cobblestones back toward work, the emptiness in Harry’s stomach grew bigger, filling with hurt or sadness or something. It was an uncomfortable feeling. He made up his mind to put this behind him, and his thoughts shifted to the concept of falling in love.

The stupid squashed bug was useless. His date was awful, and he couldn’t think of anyone else he knew that could possibly be interested in him. And on top of all that, he just got stood up. Not in a romantic way, though, not - It was just unfortunate that in addition to having no love life, Malfoy didn’t like him. As a friend. Not that he’d really wanted him to. Anyway. Luna’s charm clearly wasn’t working. 

The cobblestones beneath Harry’s feet got darker and more jagged, and a chill down his back caused him to look up. Nockturn Alley. He must have taken a wrong turn.

A whimpering sound caught his ear. Approaching an alleyway ahead of him, he decided they must be coming from a person in pain. He drew his wand and turned the corner.

Harry froze to the spot.

His stomach twisted in on itself, mind reeling back to that moment in the bathroom. He had long since shut it out, but finding himself with his wand pointed at a blood-drenched Malfoy, his insides curled with guilt and anger and fear of his own power and a million words unspoken.

Throat constricting, Harry felt like clawing at his chest or crying or being anywhere but here. A shiver ran down his arm and he dropped his wand. Malfoy looked up.

He opened his mouth to say something but Harry beat him to the punch, stuttering “I swear I didn’t mean it, I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t think-“

“What are you on about?” interrupted a shaky voice. “This has nothing to do with you, get the fuck away from me!”

Harry‘s eyes trailed the slashes than ran across his cheek, his neck, his chest... “I’m sorry.”

“Snap out of it! You didn’t do anything and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to do anything now. Just leave me alone, I’ll be fine.”

Scarlet seeped through crisp white fabric. Bathroom tiles and rusted faucets clouded Harry’s vision.

“Would you listen to someone else for once?! Harry look at me!”

The dazed man’s gaze snapped back up to meet Malfoy’s. Harry. He’d called him Harry.

He glanced around for his wand and grabbed it from the grimy ground. He performed a quick spell to stop the bleeding, and put his arms beneath Malfoy’s knees and shoulders. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

• • •

Harry sat waiting. Again. A young nurse approached him, and he stood up anxiously.

“I suppose you’re Draco Malfoy’s family?” the man asked.

“Yeah, er, mate. Acquaintance. Friend, we’re friends.”

The nurse blinked at him. “Right. Well! I’m relieved to tell you that Draco is okay. The cuts were shallow, nothing serious, and he only needs an hours’ rest.” Harry let go of the breath he’d been holding onto. “By the time we’re done with him, he should be feeling even better than before this accident!”

“Where is he?”

“Right this way.” They walked down a hall that Harry had gotten to know all too well after the battle of Hogwarts.

Malfoy looked up as the door swung open. The nurse said something that no one bothered to listen to, and the door closed, leaving silence hovering between them.

Harry nodded. “You’re alright then.”

“Seems so.”

“Was it about your father?”

“God no, Potter, that night at the bar was a one time thing. I have an image and I don’t intend to tarnish it. Some bloke was getting threatened so I stepped in, that’s all.”

Harry sat down in the chair by the hospital bed. “You’re tying to tell me you got beat up because you defended someone else? That’s not the image I remember.”

“‘Defended’ seems like a rather dramatic word. I was on my way to a discounted milkshake, they were in my way. Nothing more to it.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief, saying “It’s seeming more and more like you’ve grown to be a half decent person.”

“Oh, I’m so thankful I have the savior’s approval,” Malfoy trilled mockingly. “I just couldn’t go on without it!” He rolled his eyes in a grand gesture.

Choking back a laugh, Harry managed “Always the queen of drama.”

“Says you.” Malfoy eyed Harry with curiosity. “You want to explain why you freaked out on me earlier?”

Harry looked down. He shrugged. Looked up. “That time I found you in the bathroom. Crying. It reminded me of that.”

Blue eyes seemed to flicker with vulnerability for an instant before they quickly recovered. “Of course, the good old days.”

Disregarding the comment, Harry continued. “I didn’t know what that spell would do. I shouldn’t have used it, but I had no clue it would do that to you.”

Malfoy’s expression was unreadable.

“Anyway, I never explained or apologized and I just want to say I’m sorry. For everything, I guess.”

“No.”

“What?” Harry couldn’t figure out why on earth Malfoy was glaring at him.

“No, your apology is not accepted.”

“Excuse me?”

“I put you through hell. For seven solid years I did everything I could to get you to pay attention to me all the while making your life miserable, just because - It doesn’t matter why, the point is I was cruel and selfish so don’t you dare try to repent to me, Potter.”

Harry had seen Malfoy angry. He’d seen him scared, and ashamed, but this was the first time he’d seen him look remorseful.

A shithead, yes. There was no denying that. But a boy with a lot of hurt? He was that, too. And as rotten as he’d been, it hadn’t stopped Harry from making friends and memories and heck, saving the world once or twice.

“Don’t give yourself that much credit,” he said eventually.

The blond head tilted up. Malfoy looked at Harry for a moment, and then he laughed. Of all the different ways to react, he actually laughed. It was light, and brief, but it made Harry smile.

And so they sat, allowing themselves to look at each other with kind eyes for a moment. This time, it wasn’t fueled by alcohol or tired delirium; it just was, and it did something nice to Harry’s chest that he couldn’t quite describe.

“It’s like some sort of curse,” said Malfoy.

“Huh?”

“We keep running into each other in disastrous situations.”

“As far as curses go, it could be worse.”

Malfoy’s hand was resting on the hospital bed in front of him. Without properly thinking, Harry reached forward to hold it, but Malfoy flinched away, asking tensely “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, his hand resting awkwardly on the sheet. “I just wanted to... Never mind, it-“ He inhaled sharply as a cool, slender hand curled around his. 

Malfoy’s eyes darted away. Not that Harry noticed with all of his concentration on trying not to have a heart attack. 

Harry ran his thumb across the back of Malfoy’s hand, which twitched slightly, but then Malfoy moved his index finger and did the same.

There was this raw honesty in the way their hands communicated with each other - a vulnerability that was so much harder to allow into spoken conversation.

Suddenly, “Hello again!” came brightly from the door. Malfoy yanked his hand away and cold air took its place. Exhaling an awkward laugh, Harry reached his arm behind his head and rubbed his neck, and a glance at Malfoy revealed that his face was a bit flushed.

“Ohh,” the male nurse said slowly from the doorway. “I’ll come back in a bit then, I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything.” He gave them a knowing nod and encouraging smile as he pulled the doorknob toward himself.

“No,” Malfoy said sharply. He continued in a rush. “What do you want?”

“Just, just to tell you you’re free to go, sir.”

“Then don’t block my path.”

The nurse’ eyes widened. “Hey if you don’t want anyone to know I’m not gonna-“

He was pushed to the side with a “That’ll be all.”

The nurse turned to Harry. “Are you sure you’re okay in this relationship?”

“Yeah, sorry, he’s just, yeah.” Relationship? Harry barely had time to address that thought before he was in the hallway and Malfoy was saying something.

“You and I are on good terms, then?”

“What? Oh, yeah.”

“Well that’s convenient, because you still owe me a milkshake.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Right now?”

“You have a point. The time isn’t right for just any old milkshake. I think I’m going to need a shot in mine.”

Harry, baffled by how far the two of them had come just in the past hour, racked his brain for some sort of smart remark. Before he could respond, though, Malfoy took his hand. 

They apparated from the hallway. Harry felt the familiar hum through his body as they teleported, but there was something stronger about it this time. Something that buzzed through his very fingertips.


	5. Four Truths and a Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two favs talk for hours with alcohol & milkshakes, our other two favs. Then end up in bed together. But if you think that’s steamy, wait for the secret that gets spilled when morning comes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Daniel RADcliffe’s favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate. Tom-the-rapper-Felton’s is too, but mint chocolate chip is the most Malfoy thing I’ve ever heard of. Plus, it’s my favorite.
> 
> Aaaaaaaaaaah please give feedback.
> 
> Happy reading.

“I still can’t believe you frequent Mindy’s and you’ve never spiked a milkshake,” Malfoy scoffed, stirring the alcohol into Harry’s drink. 

The sky was just beginning to dim and a pleasant purple glow grazed the streets of Diagon Alley. They sat leaning against an old vacant building, very slightly pressing into one another.

Because it was cold. That’s why their shoulders were against each other. Because supportive friends keep each other warm. Comforted by this reasoning, Harry scooted closer to Malfoy as he leaned in for a sip.

He lurched back, choking. “What have you done to my chocolate?”

The corner of Malfoy’s mouth twitched upward. “Oh, toughen up, Potter. It’s better this way.” He held the drink toward Harry. “Here, have another go.”

Harry sipped from the milkshake straw once more, and then snatched it from his hands, fingers brushing. “Fine, you win. It’s actually pretty good.”

Malfoy smirked as he lifted his glass of mint chocolate chip and set to work. “So,” he said as casually as he could. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman so friendly.”

“What, Mindy? She’s always been sweet to me.”

“That’s an understatement. She’s all over you like whip cream on her shakes.”

“Well not like... I mean I suppose I’d never considered...” Malfoy looked at Harry almost anxiously as he thought. “What do you suppose she’d say if I, you know, asked her out?”

“No.” Malfoy seemed to answer before Harry had even finished asking. 

“But you just said-“

“That’s exactly the problem, she might say yes. And that’s a problem because she’s weird. She’d be obsessive and clingy and really, the more I think about it, that’s a terrible path to go down.”

Harry nodded slowly, a bit distracted by the angular features of Malfoy’s face and how smooth they looked in the dim light, but he was appreciative of the advice. “If you say so.”

A wrapper of some sort blew across the street in front of them, reflecting the many colors of the sky as pink and lavender clouds tumbled toward dusk. Music echoed fuzzily from a shop down the road. Harry’s right side was very warm and cozy.

“That Weasel girl...” Malfoy tried to drop the words lightly into their comfortable silence, but they landed hard. Harry shifted. “You mean Ginny.”

“Ginny.” Malfoy seemed to grimace slightly. “You and her were together.”

“Yeah.” Harry sipped his milkshake and pondered how much to say to Malfoy, but words were coming out of his mouth before he knew it. “Sixth year, first. The war put things on hold, I guess. But afterward we picked it back up and we were fine, good, for a year or so.”

Harry seemed to be lost in thought, and Malfoy waited quietly beside him until he started talking again.

“We started having these arguments. About silly things, I don’t even know what. But she kept saying... it kept coming back to her feeling like I didn’t love her like that. Not enough, anyway.

“I didn’t get it, I just sorta thought we’d figure it out and stay together because that made sense. Until she finally told me she wanted to break up.”

A deep blue sky rolled gently in with the silence. Malfoy shot down his urge to make a comment about the Weasleys and instead let Harry process.

“Did you?” he eventually asked, looking at Harry. 

“What?”

“Love her like that?”

After a moment, Harry replied. “I don’t know.”

Malfoy nodded. “Astoria... This woman Astoria and I were together for awhile. She broke it off for a similar reason.” He shrugged, but it was a tense movement. “I couldn’t let go of someone else.”

“Pansy Parkinson?”

“Pansy? No, God no. Not anyone I’ve ever had anything with. Never will, for that matter. I wouldn’t have dreamed of cheating on Astoria, anyway, but she told me my heart wasn’t in the right place. That if I cared about her, I needed to stop living in denial. It was sick, and wrong.”

“Did you ever get with that other girl?”

Malfoy chocked on the sip he was taking and laughed. “It was never meant to happen.”

There conversations moved to lighter topics as the sky got darker. Among pleasant chatter, they finished their milkshakes, touched hands multiple times as they refilled their glasses with rum, looked at the stars, and looked at each other. Before long, Harry found himself wanting to tell Malfoy the truth about his job.

“No one else knows the full story. Not Ron, not Hermione, not even Ginny and this is when I was with her.”

“Get to the point, I wanna know why the bloody hell The Punk Who Lived isn’t out in the field!”

“You know Neville?”

“‘Course I know Longbottom.”

“You know what happened to his parents?”

“...Yes, I do.”

“We were both Aurors. It was after the war and we were tracking down the remaining Death Eaters and one was throwing around the Crucio curse. Neville had visited his parents earlier that day, and he just froze up. Each of us was dueling one of them and Neville had two, but he just stopped moving. He was shaking and he wouldn’t respond to anything. Nearly got the curse himself.”

“Oh god. Well what’d you do?”

“Broke code in eleven different ways. Completely sabotaged the mission. I left my team outnumbered and the Death Eaters got away. Not that I noticed, I apparated Neville out of there and disabled our mission trackers until he had calmed down. He was fired the minute we got back, but because the whole world knows me they just promoted me to a position in the Auror department that doesn’t see an ounce of action.”

Malfoy shook his head. “He would have died, godamnit! They can’t punish you for taking care of that situation. Don’t they have anything in that bloody department that recognizes anxiety or panic attacks or fucking PTSD? And I know how hard it can be to find work. I’m a former Death Eater for god’s sake.”

Harry felt Malfoy shiver next to him, but his words didn’t slow down. “Fired from the Ministry? I can’t imagine a single decent place that’d accept that resumé. And you were promoted.” He shook his head. “Fucking privilege. But to shut you down when you were protecting your team is beyond stupid. If they had any sense, they’d know there’s no one else they should count on more.” Malfoy angrily took a swig of his drink.

Harry didn’t know there had been tension built up inside of him, and yet it was as if a knot inside his chest unwound itself as Malfoy spoke. He felt validated.

“I’m glad I told you.”

Many drinks later they were stumbling down the road. As they passed a large, intricate clock on the side of a building with Roman Numerals that indicated it was nearing 11, Malfoy interrupted their laughter.

“Sunday night.”

Still laughing, Harry let out a “Huh?”

“Monday’s coming and I have to work! Better go home.”

“No,” came the whiny response, “don’t leave.”

“I have to go sleep.”

“Fine then I’m walking you there, appa- apprarate-“ Harry giggled in a low voice, “apprirating with you there and walking.”

And so the two ridiculously drunk men made their way to Draco Malfoy’s cheap flat on a Sunday night, of all the times to be ridiculously drunk.

As they stepped out of the grimy hallway and into the room, Harry marveled at the decor. It was simple and shiny and incredibly nice looking for the run down building it was in. “Hey, hey Malfoy. This place is simple and shiny and really nice for being in such a run down building.”

“Thanks. I can’t afford much but I still have my dignity.”

Harry plopped down on the couch, fraying at the edges but otherwise in good condition. “Well? Are you gonna sit?”

“Okay fine but only for a little bit.” He collapsed across the couch lengthwise, squishing Harry in the process. “Ah can’d bweath!” he yelled into the the couch cushions.

“Neither can my legs!” said Harry, trying to turn Malfoy over but forgetting how exactly to use his arms.

Limbs tangled for a few moments. They managed to arrange themselves with Harry sitting mostly upright and Malfoy laying across him, back against the armrest.

Harry had forgotten how toned this bloke was. His mind flitted back to just a couple nights ago; undoing the buttons of his shirt, taking it off... The shirt he was wearing now had buttons. Harry wondered if they were as hard to undo as those other ones.

“Harry?” Malfoy was looking at him with a soft expression. “Have I told you that I like your eyes?”

“They’re my mother’s,” he murmured.

Malfoy frowned in confusion. “No, they look to me like yours.”

Harry‘s eyes ran across the bone structure that he’d washed lightly with a cloth, the angles that had glown in the sunset.

He realized he was tracing those cheekbones with his fingers. Malfoy didn’t seem to mind, so he trailed his left hand across his jawline, the corner of his mouth, his cheek, and into his hair. When Malfoy found his other hand and intertwined their fingers, Harry took that as an invitation to comb through his sleek, white-blond hair.

Harry felt a hand on his arm pull him downward until their faces were only an inch or two apart. 

He could feel the rhythm of Malfoy’s breathing, and as the warmth of each exhale mingled with his own breath, one thought stood alone in Harry’s mind: he wanted to kiss Malfoy. Some nagging bit of his brain tried to counteract the idea, but he pushed it aside because the only thing he cared about in this moment was that he wanted to lower his weight and kiss him.

But then Malfoy seemed to be leaning forward, and when they were only a hair away from touching, the glimmer of doubt slipped back in and Harry sat up.

Simultaneously, regret sliced through him and relief washed over him.

He looked down at Malfoy, though, and all awareness of what had just happened slipped Harry’s mind because he looked sad and he wanted to fix it. So he leaned down, put his arms around him, and laid his head on his chest.

“Don’t be sad. Don’t be sad. It’s okay.”

A heavy arm draped across his back, and Harry felt like he’d solved the problem. He was too tired to get up just yet, though. He’d move in a little bit, but for now, he was so comfortable like this. And Malfoy’s breathing was slowing. It was all very relaxing...

• • •

Harry woke up to a raging headache. And smooth blue fabric. On a person. Why was there a person? He pushed himself up just enough to see Malfoy.

He remembered the hospital, and Mindy’s, and then they sat outside and... alcohol. That’s just great. He clearly recalled Malfoy’s apartment. And the couch, this couch. They sat on the couch and oh god. Merlin’s beard. Looking at Malfoy’s face now he could feel a lingering urge to kiss him. 

Which was rubbish, complete bloody rubbish. Just because he happened to be into everything about Malfoy didn’t mean he was into Malfoy. 

Unless... that crunchy nugget. It was supposed to make him fall in love. No wonder he was in this mess! He would never in his right mind get a milkshake with Malfoy, or have any concern for how he was doing, or want to tell him things he’d never told anyone else. He didn’t really care about Malfoy.

Just then, the figure beneath him started to move. Heavy eyelids lifted just barely, and then shot open. “Potter? What the hell are you doing in my house?!”

“What a way to greet a guest. You invited me here. Both of us were pretty wasted-“

“I was drunk?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“With you?! What happened?”

“Well nothing much happened, I mean-“

“What did I say?!”

Harry didn’t understand why Malfoy was so worked up. “You confessed your undying love for me,” he said sarcastically, and while thanks to the stupid charm, part of him almost wished that were true, he intended it as a clever remark.

Malfoy, however, did not seem to take it as one.

He looked absolutely mortified.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he let out a harsh breath. “Well to hell with it, it was bound to happen eventually.”

Harry blinked twice.

Malfoy tried to sit up but immediately fell back down and rubbed his head. “What did I have last night?”

“Rum. What did you just say?”

Malfoy glared at him. “It’s only been 10 fucking years, did I forget to mention that part last night? 10 fucking years of hiding it, and I did it bloody well, damn alcohol.”

Harry blinked again. Shook his head. “10 years of... what?”

“Of trying to figure out why I was so goddamn intrigued by you! Covering up my jealousy of every other person that got to be close to you with snide remarks! Trying to shut down my feelings by convincing myself and everybody else that you were a stuck up, spoiled, attention-seeking nobody!”

Malfoy was yelling. Harry was trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“When I thought you were out of my life for good they kept plastering your face all over the news, milking every last drop of Harry-the Savior-Potter. But this last year or so... my life was finally starting to go somewhere.” Malfoy’s voice broke.

“I don’t-“

“FUCK YOU, Potter! Don’t you dare say anything, this is your fault! If you hadn’t waltzed back into my life and-“

“DRACO! It was a joke, it was a bloody joke. What the hell are you going on about?”

“...What?”

“We talked about our jobs. About the latest drama with Celestina Warbeck. We talked about plenty of meaningless shit but you never... that didn’t happen.”

“No, yeah, I was... kidding too. Fooled your gullible arse. Just thought it’d be funny to see the look on your face. If I played along, you know?”

Harry was trying desperately to keep up.

“Hate to disappoint but I really must be off, so you’re going to have to move.”

Obligingly, Harry stumbled to his feet. In one swift movement, Malfoy stood and grabbed his wand off the coffee table and then disappeared into thin air.


	6. Clean Up This Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is trying to sort things out; both facts and feelings. He does, and he doesn’t do it alone, for once. We get some more character variety in this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend Jamie, whose suggestions about the 7 dwarves and magic porn I did not take, but who I thank for the idea of the Neverending Scarf.  
> To the rest of you nerds, happy reading.

“Get back here, you soggy mess! Stupid, yarny bastard, I WILL DESTROY YOU! If you would just... bloody hell, MOVE!”

Harry walked into the kitchen to see Ron wrestling with a scarf that appeared to be down the sink drain. With the disposal on. He took a moment to take in the bizarre scene before darting over to the disposal switch and trying to flip it off, but it seemed to be jammed. Lovely.

“Oh, hi Harry!” said Ron between grunts. “Bacon’s on the stove if you want some.”

“Right.” Harry turned, but where bacon should have been there was only a flaming stretch of scarf. “Er, Ron?”

“Merlin’s beard,” he groaned. “Just when I thought this mess couldn’t get worse.”

Back to back, like true warriors, Harry set to work putting out the fire while Ron created more chaos.

The spinning blades in the sink drain sucked up the scarf, and yet it only seemed to be getting longer on their end.

Ron slumped to the floor. A tattered knit pattern surrounded him like a giant, tangled nest, and he sat in the middle, as slimy and wet and miserable as a freshly-hatched baby bird.

“That’s it. I give up. The world is against me. I can’t even get along with a bloody scarf.”

“What on earth happened in here, Ron?”

“You’d think I’d have learned by now never to trust Fred. Well, he gave me this ruddy thing for Christmas, said it was real handy. ‘Choose-your-own-length! Just tug on it and it’ll get longer.’ Only problem is, it doesn’t shrink back up. And now I’m here.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oi, now you’re mocking me, too?!”

Ron’s face contorted in disgust as he plucked his wand from the sopping heap. “Hermione would have had this solved a while ago,” he murmured defeatedly.

Suddenly, his eyes widened. “I got it! Accio scarf!”

The thing sprouted from the drain and came shooting at Ron and Harry. It kept coming, and coming, and coming, and coming. And coming.

As it continued to protrude from the sink, it began to bring all sorts of food scraps with it. Harry couldn’t see a thing but he heard the disposal give a couple loud clunks before settling into a soft whir.

“I think it’s over,” said Ron from somewhere in the ugly pile.

Harry felt his way toward the switch and turned it off. He chuckled again. Living with his best friend was an adventure of its own. 

“Would you shut up!” But then Ron was laughing too, and Harry was glad that even if nothing else added up, he always had this.

The two of them managed to get things cleaned up pretty quickly. After complaining loudly about Harry’s recent absence around the flat, Ron gave him an affectionate pat on the back and wished him a good day at work.

Getting any work done after the strange events of early this morning would be difficult, but Harry wished Ron the same and was off to the subway.

Luna was there, as usual, and she wanted to know about her nut.

“Oh, it’s working alright.”

She asked to see it, so he fished the dumb thing from the bottom of his bag and placed it in her hand.

“I’m surprised you didn’t use it for love,” she said in her whimsical voice, smiling. “You’ve been quite lonely.”

“What do you mean?” He was pretty sure he had in fact used it for that very thing.

“All wishes can be sorted into one of three categories: love, time, and material. These markings here show that you used yours to alter time.”

“I don’t understand, that’s not what my wish was about.”

”Things aren’t always as we intend, Harry. You may have wished without meaning to. It’s happened to plenty of people. If that’s the case, it only means the Nerglenut is listening to your gut, and you can always choose to do the same. But whatever your wish may have been, it’s doing you good. Your heart seems much more full.”

Harry managed to conclude one thing from Luna’s speech, and he didn’t like it at all. The magic clump of dirt probably wasn’t the reason for his attraction. And if it wasn’t, that meant he was.

The subway must have continued moving because it arrived at Harry’s stop, but his brain was at a standstill. He made the automatic trip out of the station, into the Ministry, and up to his office. Harry Potter and his staticky brain sat cooped up in there in hazy panic until lunch rolled around.

Ron’s words seemed to echo off the walls: Hermione would have solved this by now. He scribbled a note and sent it off with his owl, praying Hermione was still in the same office. They worked two floors away, and yet he hadn’t talked to her in months.

A few minutes later, Buck swooped back through the doorway clutching a neatly rolled piece of parchment. Harry took it and hurriedly unrolled it.

He smiled at his friend’s familiar scrawl and sighed in relief, pushing back his chair.

• • •

Hermione’s office was filled with books. She had four bookshelves; three of them were large and made of dark wood while the other was small and carved with intricate designs. Everything from old, dusty volumes to the latest research journals lined the shelves, and as if that wasn’t enough, she had stacks all the way to the ceiling and a pile on her desk.

A few unique-looking potted plants sat scattered among the bindings, presumably gifts from Neville. Swirling slowly across the ceiling was this relaxing blue and purple mist.

Her chair was empty, so Harry assumed she’d stepped out. He sat on the edge of the desk while he waited and stared at the deeply colored penseive-like charm above him.

The door must have opened, because suddenly Hermione was in front of him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling softly at him.

“Very impressive,” he said sincerely.

She flung her arms around him and squeezed. “Oh Harry, I’ve missed you!” He hugged her back, not wanting to let go.

“I missed you too, Hermione.” And as he uttered those words, he realized just how much he meant them.

She stood up. He recognized, with a twinge of nostalgia, that her face meant business.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

And so Harry told Hermione everything, albeit awkwardly. Her face scrunched at the first few mentions of Malfoy, but she took in every word he said. When he got to the bit about Malfoy’s flat, he had trouble formulating sentences.

“What, Harry, you wanted to what?”

“Well we were really close, as in our faces, our faces were close-“

“Get to the point.”

“Everybody knows that when people are in that position they sometimes a lot of the time end up kissing, although it wasn’t- I mean I didn’t think-“

“Did you or did you not kiss Draco Malfoy?”

“No. But I wanted to.” He blurted the words before he could change his mind. 

“Okay.” Hermione kept a blank expression at this and resumed her listening position.

And then Harry was doing his best to explain the following morning. How Malfoy had freaked out, wondering what he’d said the night before, and Harry joked that he’d confessed his love.

The next part he still couldn’t understand, because Malfoy did confess.

“10 years.” Hermione did the math in her mind. “So he fancied you all through school,” she said incredulously.

“That’s what he was saying, until I told him I wasn’t being serious and he hadn’t said anything of the sort. Then he told me he was just fooling around. That none of it was true.”

“Denial,” Hermione said with authority, but her assured expression faltered. “Then again, he’s a Slytherin, and he’s Malfoy. How can you be sure what to trust?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied.

“But your feelings, that was because of the Nerglenut, of course.” 

“How on earth do you know what that nasty thing’s called?” Harry was pretty sure he hadn’t said its name, because he couldn’t keep it straight.

“They’re in every book on Herbology,” she said as if normal people actually read those. “The point is you used your wish for love, and it tried to land you with Malfoy of all people.”

“That’s the thing,” Harry said hopelessly. “Luna looked at the markings this morning, and she told me it didn’t have to do with love. Said I used it on time or something.”

“Time.” He could practically see the gears turning in her head. “All the times you and Malfoy wound up together. Far too often to be coincidence. Harry, that first night when you rescued Malfoy from the bar fight, did you think to yourself at any point that evening or the next morning that you wanted to run into him more often?”

“Yeah, I guess I did. I mean it was kinda nice, he-“

“So by the time you got around to asking for love, you’d already used your wish subconsciously. It’s a common problem people run into. Idealists argue that it’s because the specimen knows what we need better than we do, but I think it’s a flaw in the design, really-“

Hermione kept talking, but Harry stopped processing her words. He trusted Hermione as the highest source of information, and if she was insisting on this, too, that meant it really must be true. It was his fault he’d fallen in love with Draco.

How could he not?

Draco Malfoy had been a pain nearly their whole time at Hogwarts, but he had a redeeming moment or two. It was these past few days, though, that he’d gotten to see more of Draco than he’d ever thought he’d want to. And the more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

Malfoy’s moral compass was finally decently aligned, and he stood up for what he believed was right. To see that kind of bravery in a Slytherin was impressive. He supposed it wasn’t all that different from when he’d protected Harry from being turned over to Voldemort even though he was told by his own family to identify him, but Malfoy was proving again and again what a fundamental part of him that sort of behavior had become.

His kindness had such depth, too. On the surface, it was the same sarcastic rudeness Harry was accustomed to. Despite this, he felt safe telling him things he barely admitted to himself.

And that body. Damn...

“Harry?” He broke from his trance. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he said, trying to shove Draco from his mind.

“You really are that fond of him, aren’t you.” There was no trace of judgement in her voice, and when he searched her eyes trying to figure out what she was thinking, all he could find was love and acceptance.

“Yeah. I suppose I really am.”

But the memory of Malfoy’s harsh voice just hours earlier snapped Harry back into reality. His own feelings were a sappy mess, but maybe they’d be met with coldness and he could stop worrying about all this.

“Hermione, what Draco said this morning? Please tell me I’m being daft. You know I’m not good with these things, tell me I suck at interpreting romantic stuff and I’ve got it all wrong.”

Hermione looked at him, calculating. “You said he sounded sincere?”

“Well, yeah, I mean it sure seemed like it to me, but what do I know, right?”

She exhaled thoughtfully. Reached across the wooden desk and put a hand on his. There was sympathy in her eyes. “Harry, for once, I think you’ve got it all right.”


End file.
